


Stick around, will ya?

by confusedandconflicted



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Andreil, F/F, F/M, I know I'm sorry, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mute Neil Josten, Protective Andrew Minyard, Riko still sucks, Sign Language, andrew struggles with neil's nonverbal consent, au where everyone works at edens, au where seth is still alive, gay shit, lol bye, mute!Neil, protective!Andrew, soft bois, you know where this is going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24267265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedandconflicted/pseuds/confusedandconflicted
Summary: It starts off with a no, funnily enough.aka Neil is running from Riko and lands himself at Eden's Twilight, where all the Foxes live and work (Wymack owns the place and all the Foxes work there and live above the club like one big family).gay shit ensues.DISCLAIMER PLEASE READ: I am not selectively mute myself, so I tried to do as much research as I could. I am not perfect, and if I go about writing about Neil's mutism incorrectly or insensitively, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. It is not my intention to offend anyone or romanticize disabilities. I just want to explore an au where Neil's mutism changes the dynamics of his relationships with the Foxes, because such a critical part of the aftg series and Neil's character there was his mouth. Please let me know if you have any comments or concerns.
Relationships: Abby Winfield/David Wymack, Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick/Erik Klose
Comments: 51
Kudos: 290





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let's see if I actually follow through and write this whole story lol  
> Kudos and criticism are appreciated!!
> 
> Oh, and if you didn't read the tags, Neil is selectively mute. That'll get explained more in future chapters, I promise.
> 
> *insert shameless plug here* my editing acc is @xmbience on insta if you wanna follow or just talk!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil lands himself at Eden's Bar after along night of running. Wymack, true to his nature, takes in another stray.
> 
> Song for this chapter - "Afraid" by The Neighborhood.

It starts out with a “no”, funnily enough. Neil’s running, running faster than he ever has before, and his legs are burning and straining and his feet sting with every heavy slap against the concrete. His shoes are worn down enough that he can feel the rough scrape of gravel against his heels.

But that, of course, is nothing but a minor inconvenience.

When his legs finally betray him and give out, Neil collapses against the brick wall of a building, the fall punching a weak grunt from his lungs. His body is buzzing with energy and his thoughts are telling him to _run, keep going_ , but his limbs are glued to the ground and he can’t find it in himself to get up. He spends a few minutes trying to figure out how to breathe, the frigid air stinging his throat when he inhales.

The door to the building opens, and a man steps out into the brisk cold, quickly catching Neil’s eye. He does a double take, blinking his eyes a few times as if he’d imagined Neil slumped in a bloody heap against the wall, before he’s storming over with such intensity that it makes Neil scramble against the wall in fear.

“Hey! Hey, kid, calm the fuck down.” The man’s gruff voice instantly puts him on edge, and he pulls away from the outstretched hand that was headed for his shoulder. Neil shook his head violently, so hard that he had to blink away stars. He knew the man saw the terror in Neil’s eyes from the way his own widened just slightly. The man took a step back, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. Neil let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

The man reached for the radio clipped to his belt, pulling it off and murmuring into it lowly. “Andrew, get your ass to the entrance.”

Neil knew, rationally, that he couldn’t run. His palms stung from digging into the rough ground beneath him, and he still couldn’t feel his legs. So no, running wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t have made it much further anyways, judging from the way his whole body was still shaking like a leaf.

Neil eyed the man standing a few feet away, staring him down with steely eyes. His arms were folded in front of his chest, tattooed skin bulging with muscles. His scowl reminded Neil of his father’s. He shivered.

Neil startled when the door slammed open again, a small, broad figure shouldering his way outside. His face was illuminated underneath the neon lights hanging above, painting his hair a sickening green as he headed towards Neil. He prayed the man would stop, but he didn’t. He stormed up to Neil’s cowering figure, face deceivingly blank, and Neil _panics_. 

_No no no_ , Neil thinks, because the man is too close, too close, and Neil’s head is _screaming_ and everything hurts and his vision is swimming and-

Everything goes black.

* * *

When Neil wakes up, the blonde is still there — albeit a bit further away this time — crouching in tight black pants that are definitely not designed for crouching. They’re ripped at the knees, except, unlike Neil’s, it had been done intentionally. Neil looked up and met the man’s hazel eyes with what he hoped was a steady gaze. He assumed this was Andrew, the one who the older man had radioed for earlier. He watched as Andrew tilted his head to the side, face still carefully blank.

Interesting.

“We have ourselves a little runaway,” the blonde mocked. “How intriguing. And where might you have come from, little rabbit?”

Neil stayed silent.

The other man — the gruff, tattooed one — stepped up towards Neil slowly, as if approaching a frightened little animal.

He wasn’t that far off, in all honesty.

He made another grab for Neil’s shoulder with a “c’mon kid, let’s get you inside,” but Neil flinched away so hard he smacked his head against the bricks behind him.

“Jesus kid-”

Neil reached up to his temple, lightly pressing his trembling fingers against the warm trickle of blood making its way down his face. He took his fingers away, wiping the sticky redness on his pants.

The older man sighed in defeat, forgoing any other attempts at making a grab for Neil to step back towards the door. He sent Andrew a tired look. “Figure out how to get him inside, Minyard.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Just-” The man rubbed at his face before yanking open the door in frustration. “I’ll be upstairs.”

The door shut behind him with a resounding _clang_ , and Neil turned back towards the emotionless man in front of him. 

Andrew held out his hand, but it felt like a question, not an expectation. Neil’s shoulders relaxed from where they were hunched up by his ears, but he still shook his head in an unsteady _no_ . How was he supposed to trust some random guy? No. No way. He’d rather stay out here in the bitter cold than follow a random person into some strange building — for all he knew it could be a trap. Maybe Riko had found him already and was taking his sweet time, maybe he was hiding inside the building just _waiting_ to get his hands back on Neil. Maybe-

“Stop it.” Neil whipped his head to face Andrew, who was still crouched a few feet away from him. His voice was low and monotone, his face the same. Neil should have felt unsettled by the dull blankness, but the longer he held Andrew’s gaze, the slower his breaths became, until they were nothing more than quiet puffs into the frigid air. Once Andrew had deemed him calm enough, he spoke again.

“You’re outside Eden’s Twilight, just west of Columbia. You’re safe, nobody inside is going to hurt you.” He held out his hand again, slower this time. “Now stop being an idiot and come inside. Either you crawl there or I help you walk. Yes or no?”

There was something in his eyes, _something_ , that had Neil nodding and reaching up his own hand. He didn’t know what, but he allowed Andrew to pull him up with one steady hand curling around his own. Andrew touched him as little as possible, slinging Neil’s trembling arm over his broad shoulder and barely ghosting his other hand over Neil’s side. It took a second for Neil to figure out how legs work again, but then they were heading through the door and inside the building.

It was a club, Neil realized. An empty club, which was definitely strange. Neil squinted into the darkness that blanketed the room, scrunching his nose against the lingering smell of booze and sweaty bodies. There were only a few people hanging around the room, and the music had been reduced to a soft pounding that ricocheted off the walls. Andrew weaved him through the room, around where a man with dark curly hair was vigorously wiping a stain off the surface of a table, and past the bar, where a girl was stacking up empty glasses and dumping them in the sink. Andrew guided him through a heavy door marked _Staff Only_ , and he caught a quick glimpse of the kitchen and living room they passed before they started the painstaking process of getting Neil up the single flight of stairs. They did, eventually, but by the time they reached the landing Neil was leaning more heavily against Andrew, despite his best efforts not to. Neil could feel Andrew’s tense frame, and he apologized silently in his head, trying to focus on keeping his legs moving.

The stairs opened up to a carpeted hallway, much to the relief of Neil’s battered feet. He scanned the space quickly — three doors on the left, two on the right, and one marked  _ emergency exit _ at the other end. As Andrew dragged Neil a few more painful steps, the third door on the left opened and shut quickly, and the older man from earlier had stepped out. Neil flinched back automatically, but Andrew held him firm.

The older man headed into the first room on the right — the door was already open — and gestured silently for Andrew and Neil to follow. Neil swallowed down the fear that rose up in his throat at the thought of being trapped in the same room as the man, and, with Andrew’s help, he made his way into the space. He sat down on a couch opposite of the man, and had to suppress a relieved groan as he sank into the cushions. Andrew closed the door behind him and leaned against it, arms folded defensively on his chest.

Neil suddenly felt very, very trapped. But before that panic could take hold, the older man cleared his throat loudly, jolting him back to the present. Neil stared at him warily, forcing his fear back down into his stomach.

“I’m Wymack,” he said gruffly, before pointing to Andrew. “That’s Andrew. We want to help, but you need to tell me what’s going on.”

Neil stayed silent, earning a sigh from Wymack.

“Look, kid, I can’t help you unless you tell me why the fuck I found you collapsed at the front door of my club at 5 in the morning.”

Neil startled for a moment. 5 in the morning? Had he really been running for that long?

“What happened?” Wymack pressed.

Neil shook his head, pointing to his mouth. Wymack looked lost for a moment, before realization struck his face. “Are you deaf?”

Neil shook his head again, pointing to his mouth once more.

“You don’t speak?” 

Neil nodded.

“Alright. Okay, okay.” He let out a heavy sigh, dragging a muscular hand over his eyes. “I’m too tired for this shit. We’ll figure it out in the morning. Hold on a second.” Wymack stood up with a grunt, shouldering his way past Andrew and heading back out into the hallway. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, Andrew staring Neil down and Neil holding his gaze levelly, before Wymack returned with an armful of blankets. He tossed them unceremoniously at Neil, who scrambled to catch the mess. “You’ll sleep in here for now. We’ll deal with everything when you wake up.” Neil nodded his thanks, shifting sideways on the couch and lazily covering himself with the thick blanket. He eyed the two men warily as Wymack retreated back out the room, and Andrew — with one last blank look at Neil — slipped out silently behind him and shut the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wymack officially adopts another stray. 
> 
> Andrew definitely has reading glasses.
> 
> Song for this chapter - "Nice To Meet Ya" by Niall Horan.

Neil didn’t sleep. He didn’t expect to, not in a building full of strangers, but his heavy lids and muddled brain make him almost regret it. Almost.

Instead, he just sat there on the couch, switching between fiddling with loose threads on the cushions and staring into space. The sun came up fairly soon after Wymack and Andrew had left, so Neil took to watching the warm colors flood the horizon and bathe the streets in a soft glow. His body was still buzzing with the urge to run, but he shoved it back down and buried it deep.

He was still sitting in the same position he was hours ago when Andrew came back into the room. His footsteps had been loud enough in the hallway that Neil didn’t startle, and whether that was intentional or not, Neil was still grateful. He turned away from the window and uncurled his hand from where it was fisted in the blanket, staring back at Andrew’s impassive expression as he leaned against the doorframe. Andrew didn’t say anything, just assessed Neil with a sharp gaze, contrasting his sleep-mussed hair and rumpled clothes.

Right as the silence that stretched between them started to become uncomfortable, Andrew turned on his heel and strode back out of the room. Neil scrambled up to follow, much to his own surprise. He jogged a few steps to catch with Andrew, unfazed by the pins and needles shooting up his legs. He followed him down the steps, dragging his calloused hand idly on the polished wooden banister as he descended. They went into the living room Neil remembered passing last night, where people were scattered aimlessly around—he noticed a hispanic man sprawled out on the coach, gesturing violently to a girl with white hair and pastel tips, a pair arguing violently in a corner of the room, and a couple more people standing around, seemingly oblivious to the chaos all around them.

Neil startled—inwardly, of course—when Wymack stomped through the doorway behind him with a loud, “calm down, fuckers!” and the room fell silent. That was when everyone seemed to notice Neil, staring at him with expressions varying from pity—that was from the man on the couch—to disinterest. From Andrew, of course. Wymack took a spot near the couch, standing with his arms crossed as he looked around the room impatiently. Everyone settled into various seats near the couch, some on the floor, and a few on the seats and arms of chairs. Andrew had shoved the man on the couch over to one side, sitting near the other end and quirking an eyebrow at Neil. Neil let out a breathy sigh, but took a spot in the middle of the couch. 

As he settled, he could feel the eyes on his face. On the scars stretching across his left cheek. He hadn’t seen them in a mirror in ages, but he knew they were bad—pink, raised lines that had never fully healed. 

He sank further into the cushions.

“Here kid,” Wymack tossed a yellow notepad and a pen to Neil, who caught them semi-gracefully. He looked up at Wymack, sending him a curt nod of thanks.

“Hey Andrew, where’s your little puppy?” the man he saw arguing earlier provoked from one of the chairs, his upper lip curling in distaste. Andrew, unsurprisingly, didn’t even seem to hear the man, and had taken to fiddling with a game on his phone. 

“The health freak couldn’t bear to miss his morning run,” someone else muttered, and Neil’s head whipped toward the voice. He was met with another Andrew—well, obviously this wasn’t Andrew, judging from his tone and the lack of black armbands covering his forearms. _A twin_ , Neil deduced. He was slouched in one of the armchairs, knees tucked up so he could settle his shoes on the leather. He hadn’t looked up to reply to the other man, his stare trained on the bagel he was picking apart with pale fingers. “Can we hurry this up? I’ve got shit to do.”

“Alright everyone,” Wymack clapped his hands together, the loud _smack_ echoing through the small living room, and everyone settled into quiet again. “I’ll make this quick. I found this kid out front after closing this morning, uh...” He snapped his fingers towards Neil, gesturing towards the notepad Neil had sitting in his lap. “What’s your name?”

Neil bent down, uncapping the pen and scribbling onto the sheet. He lifted it up towards Wymack, who squinted at the page. “Neil. Okay. So Neil, you don’t speak, correct?” Neil nodded slightly in confirmation, and flipped to the next sheet of paper to scrawl the words ‘ _selectively mute’_ across the page. He turned it towards Wymack. “Selectively mute,” the older man read, nodding in understanding. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If it’s your choice, then just choose to talk, dumbass,” the same shit-starter from earlier interrupted, sending Neil a dirty look. He watched with silent satisfaction as the girl sitting beside the man—the blonde he had been arguing with earlier—reached over to smack his shoulder disapprovingly. “What the fuck, Seth?” 

The man, ‘ _Seth’_ , just shrugged, clearly unapologetic and uncaring.

Wymack just sent Seth a death stare before turning back to Neil. “Do you have any place to go?” Neil shook his head curtly, looking down at his hands to make sure they weren’t shaking. He could feel the weight of Andrew’s stare on him, but he pointedly avoided the gaze. For some reason, he felt like Andrew could see right through him.

Neil didn’t like that.

He picked up the pen again, writing ‘ _if we’re done, can I go now?’_ on the sheet and showing it to Wymack, who just rolled his eyes and sent Neil a dismissive gesture. “No. How did you end up outside my bar?”

 _‘Running’_ , Neil wrote, but at Wymack’s raised eyebrow, he elaborated with the vague explanation, ‘ _family problems’_. That wasn’t entirely the truth, of course, but what these people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He wasn’t staying here for long anyways. Just a week or so, and then he’d be off to the next city. 

“Must be pretty shitty parents if they made you run.”

“Seth, shut the fuck up. Your parents weren’t any better, don’t be an asshole.”

Wymack stared at him, as if he knew Neil was hiding something, but Neil knew he was too good a liar for Wymack to see anything. The same didn’t go for Andrew, which was why Neil still hadn’t met his stare. 

“Sounds like you're the perfect candidate for Eden’s!” the man on Neil’s other side piped in energetically. “Wymack here has a habit of taking in strays.” He smiled, toothy and bright, and Neil felt exhausted just looking at him. 

“More like fucked up addicts and fags,” Seth muttered, which only earned him a harder smack from the girl next to him. The man who had been smiling at Neil frowned, his energy fading just a little.

“Seth, stop it,” Wymack sighed, wiping a hand across his face. “Don’t start this shit right now.” Seth snarled, but stayed miraculously silent.

“Neil, I won’t press you any more, but if you want to talk—or uh, write I guess—we’re all here. And there’s a therapist just next door if you want to talk to a professional. We’re not the softest of people, but we make it work.”

Neil fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, not meeting Wymack’s eyes.

“Speaking of work,” Wymack continued, “everyone here works out front at the bar. You can take the first few days to settle in, but after that I’ll give you something to do when the bar’s open.” 

Neil nodded in understanding.

Wymack sighed. “Alright, well I’ve got to go get some shit done; Matt, there’s an extra bed in your room, right?” Neil followed Wymack’s gaze towards a man sitting on the floor, a woman casually settled across his lap. The man, who Neil assumed was Matt, peered around her shoulder to look up at Wymack.

“Yep.”

“Okay then, Neil, you’ll room with Matt and Seth. Make yourself at home. And the rest of you,” he pointed at the others, “try to play relatively nice and introduce yourself to Neil.” He looked around the room one last time. “Now all of you fuckers get out of my face. Go do something useful.

And Neil-” Wymack dragged Neil’s gaze up from his lap, “take a damn shower. You smell like my dumpster.”

And with that, he headed out the doorway to the bar, and everyone started to disperse. Neil stood up as well, but before he could escape out the front door, Matt stepped up in front of him, the girl that was sitting on his lap earlier at his side. He stuck out his hand into the empty space between them. “Hi,” he smiled. “I’m Matt, and this is Dan,” he pointed to the woman next to him with an adoring look on his face.

Neil stared back at him, not making a move to shake his hand.

“Uh. Right then.” Matt lowered his hand hesitantly, and fought to keep the smile on his face. “Well, if you need anything, we’re here; all you gotta do is ask. Or, uh...” A sheepish look crept onto Matt’s face when he realized what he’d said, but Neil honestly wasn’t bothered. He offered Dan and Matt a quick nod of understanding, hoping to avoid making this any more awkward. Matt chuckled. “Sorry. It might take some getting used to.”

“Well, I’ve got a job to do, so I have to get going,” Dan said, a sincere smile on her face. “It was nice meeting you.”

“I think you’re really gonna like it here,” Matt added. “I should start setting up for tonight, so I’ll see you later?”

Neil nodded in reassurance, but was quick to dart around them and out of the room. He took the stairs two steps at a time, and opened up the door to the first room on his left, just before realizing that he didn’t actually know which one he was supposed to be living in.

“What.”

Andrew was laying on one of the beds in the room. Neil startled, visibly this time. He was propped up on an obnoxious amount of pillows, donning glasses and a different outfit from earlier. His fingers were still, halfway through flipping a page in the book he was holding. Andrew eyed where Neil was standing in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.

“Matt’s room is across the hall. Remember your manners, little runaway. Knock next time.” Andrew’s voice sounded bored, and he turned back to his book.

Neil turned on his heel and stepped across the hall, shutting Andrew’s door behind him. When he stepped into Matt’s room, he was met with two bunk beds lining the wall—both of the upper bunks were bare, but the two lower beds looked lived in. There were posters lining the walls and old bowls of food haphazardly tossed on bedside tables, drawers pulled half open from the dressers and a shaggy carpet in the center of the room bearing mysterious stains. It didn’t smell, aside from the faint scent of B.O., but it’s not like that would have mattered to Neil. He’d lived in worse conditions. Hell, he’d slept in a pool of his own sweat and blood once, that one night Riko had gotten particularly angry and Jean hadn’t been there to patch him up afterwards.

Neil crossed the room towards the open bathroom door in the far corner, shucking his shoes and socks and tossing them in the general direction of one of the unclaimed (now his) beds. 

He paused when he stepped into the bathroom and realized there wasn’t a lock on the door.

He hadn’t thought this through. Neil couldn’t put himself in that vulnerable position, not now, not yet. He didn’t know these people, and he sure as hell didn’t trust them.

“You know how a shower works, right?” 

Neil whipped around, meeting Andrew’s eyes from where he was standing just outside the door in the hallway. His voice was flat, but one of his eyebrows was quirked minutely upward. Neil nodded, but kept staring at Andrew. He knew Andrew saw what was in Neil’s eyes once he let out a heavy sigh and turned around. “I’ll stay out here and watch the door. Get in the fucking shower, you reek.”

Why Neil was able to trust Andrew, he had no idea, but he breathed out relief and shut the bathroom door behind him. 

When he came out, steamy air trailing after him, there was a pair of folded clothes on the floor just outside the bathroom.

* * *

After Neil had found a spare set of sheets in the closet and had managed to wrestle them onto the bed, he made his way back downstairs. He passed by the living room and kitchen, where Matt and a few others were hanging out, and pushed open the door that led to the club. He came out by the bar, where he found Andrew and the girl with frosted tips having a conversation and cleaning glasses. 

Well, the girl was cleaning glasses. Andrew was sitting atop the counter, clearly uninterested in helping. The girl caught Neil’s gaze, waving him over to them. “Hello, Neil,” she said, her voice serene and soft. “I’m Renee. How are you settling in?”

Neil held up a halfhearted thumbs up, which Renee smiled at. “Good! Care to help me clean everything for tonight? Andrew’s not really in the mood.”

He shrugged, but made his way behind the bar, seeing as there wasn’t much else to do. Neil felt Andrew’s eyes tracking him as he went to stand by Renee and picked up a glass, but he tried to ignore it. There was something unsettling about Renee that made Neil want to keep his distance, but he picked up a rag and mirrored her actions.

They spent a good while doing this, Renee picking back up her conversation with Andrew and Andrew answering her in his bored monotone, although it was clear he was interested enough in the zombie apocalypse topic to keep up the conversation.

Neil stayed a silent presence nearby, partially tuning out the two of them and turning to his own thoughts. He was distracted enough that he didn’t see a new person walk into the bar, but he didn’t miss the choked gasp that came seconds after.

He looked up in confusion, almost dropping his glass when he saw the man standing in the middle of the room. He would know those green eyes anywhere.

Kevin Day blanched and went still.

“Neil?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and criticism are appreciated!!
> 
> I'm going to try and get in the habit of posting every week, but don't get too excited. I'm lazy and unmotivated so it might be every other week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil is sick of Kevin's shit.
> 
> Andrew plays with knives.
> 
> Song for this chapter - “Trouble” by Halsey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For future reference, a character is using sign language when the dialogue is written in bold.
> 
> Tw for scars, references to past rape (not graphic, but read with care), implied/referenced abuse.

Andrew shoved Kevin and Neil into a booth tucked in the corner of the club; Kevin sat across from Neil, face contorted to something between pain and sorrow, and Andrew was an impassive rock on his right. He was trapped on the inside of the booth, but he was too focused on Kevin to panic at that. Renee had gracefully excused herself and went back to prepping the bar.

Blackout shades hung over the windows, a small sprinkling of white light peeking around the edges. The low-hanging light above them bathed Kevin’s face in an orange glow and darkened the creases between his brows. Neil leaned forward, the plastic of the red seat creasing under his weight, and met Kevin with hard eyes. He lifted his hands off of the table and signed his words slowly.

Back at the Nest, Neil and Jean had learned sign language as a way to talk to each other under Riko’s nose. They had taught Kevin bits and pieces of ASL when they could, but he hadn’t been able to learn much.

 **You left me** , Neil signed with a glare. His hands moved with practiced ease, fingers twisting and bending into the signs.

It took Kevin a second to recognize the signs he had been taught years ago, but Neil saw the exact moment he understood the words — the tips of his ears flushed red, and he cleared his throat with a grimace.

Neil wanted to smack the look right off of his face. With a steel toe boot, preferably.

 **Two years, Kevin.** Neil’s hands were shaking now. **You left me alone with him for** **_two years_** **.**

Andrew, clearly unhappy at being left out of the conversation, was toying with a knife he had slipped out of his armband. The blade made Neil tense; he’d guessed Andrew was carrying them — he’d noticed the sheathes concealed in the black bands earlier that day — but watching him twirl one around his fingers so casually still made Neil uneasy.

“You’ve been keeping things from me, Kevin,” Andrew said, his tone taking on a dangerous lilt. It sounded like a statement, but Neil heard the question layered beneath it.

Kevin sent Neil a questioning look and, at Neil’s glare, started talking.

“You know I worked with Riko,” he started, head down. “You know I left after he broke my hand, and that I had to leave Jean behind. But – ” He shot Neil a nervous look. “But it wasn’t just Jean I was leaving behind. Neil was there too.”

Kevin swallowed audibly, gesturing at Andrew. “I didn’t feel like I needed to tell you. I didn’t – ” He looked at Neil with sad eyes, but Neil stared back blankly. “I didn’t think I’d ever see Neil again.”

There were a few tense minutes of silence, hanging hot and heavy in the air between everyone. Andrew was clearly mulling over the words, the twirling of his blade slowing to a halt as he stared Kevin down.

“And what, pray tell, was this little rabbit doing working with a yakuza group like the Moriyamas?” Andrew flicked a hand in Neil’s direction.

Kevin hesitated before speaking again, cowing under Andrew’s stare. “Well, um, he wasn’t exactly working with the Moriyamas. Not- not like Jean and I.” Kevin took in a shaky breath that caught in his throat. “He was sold to them to repay his father’s debt. He was given to Riko, as… um.”

 **Say it, Kevin** , Neil signed. Kevin’s dramatics were starting to get old.

Kevin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands twitching where they were resting on the table. “As Riko’s plaything, essentially. For Riko to use as he pleased.”

Neil felt Andrew still beside him at that, but his face remained impassive.

“I’m sorry, Neil.” Kevin’s voice cracked on his name, but Neil just flipped him off carelessly. 

There was no pity left in his heart for a coward.

 **We’re done here,** he signed, before turning towards Andrew and trying to push him out of the booth. 

What he didn’t expect was a knife at his neck for it, but hey.

Andrew snarled, pressing the cold edge of the blade harder against Neil’s skin. “Don’t touch me.”

Neil held his hands up in surrender, but leaned into the blade, a small smirk playing on his lips. He had been cut enough times to know that a little spilt blood wasn’t going to do any damage.

Andrew pulled the knife back before it could break through the skin. He slipped it back into his armband and stared Neil down, _hard_ , eyes narrowing minutely as he studied his face. Andrew didn’t seem to find what he was looking for, though, and eventually moved out of the seat so Neil could slip past him.

Neil passed Renee at the bar, pointedly ignoring her not-so-subtle stare, and went through the door to the back. He had almost escaped to the stairs when a woman stopped him, sidling into his path. She hadn’t been in the living room this morning, so Neil kept himself at arm’s length and regarded her coolly.

“You must be Neil,” she said with a smile. “I’m Abby, David’s wife.” At Neil’s furrowed brow, she added, “Wymack.”

Neil offered her a small nod to show he understood. 

“Wymack mentioned you’re selectively mute?” Neil nodded again. “Well, I apologize in advance for not knowing much sign language, but I think we can get by with simple yes or no’s for the time being. Are you busy right now, by chance?”

Neil let his shoulders scrunch up in a quick shrug, to which Abby smiled again and gestured for him to follow her up the stairs.

Guess his bed will have to wait.

“I’m a nurse at a hospital nearby,” Abby told Neil as they walked, “and David wanted me to take a quick look at you.”

Neil stilled at that, his feet pausing two steps below the landing. Abby looked back, concern clouding her face, and Neil shook his head in a brisk _no_.

“Neil,” she said softly, stepping back down to meet his eyes, “you can trust me. I won’t hurt you, and everything I see will remain private and confidential.” She reached out with soft, steady fingers — slowly enough that he could back away if he needed to — and gripped his chin lightly, tilting his face up towards hers.

“You’re safe here. I promise.”

Neil doubted that was true, but he nodded when Abby dropped her hand.

She led him to the door at the end of the hall — Wymack and Abby’s room, Neil assumed — and had him sit on the edge of the large bed pushed up against the wall. Abby turned around, opening up a small wooden cabinet by the door and pulling out a medical kit. She placed it carefully next to Neil, and bent down to reach for his face. Her fingers were a light — albeit still a little uncomfortable — presence on his skin as she tilted his head this way and that, inspecting his scars with a deep frown. 

He knew the knife marks didn’t look too good, and that the burn scar wasn’t healing properly, so he wasn’t surprised when Abby tutted and shook her head.

“You haven’t been taking care of these,” she said matter-of-factly, earning a weak shrug from Neil.

Abby straightened up with a sigh, walking back over to the open cabinet and grabbing something from the bottom shelf. She tossed it at Neil, who caught it with practiced ease and inspected the small white tube with a raised brow.

“Scar cream,” Abby said as she stepped back in front of him. “It won’t make your scars go away, but it’ll keep them hydrated and smooth and make them look a little better.”

Neil nodded his thanks and set the tube next to him on the comforter.

Abby had him turn his head so she could inspect the gash from last night, where he had hit the back of his head against the wall outside. Neil had accidentally scrubbed it in the shower a few hours before, so now it was settling into a dull, painful throb.

She opened up the medical kit, rummaging through the contents before pulling out another tube. Before Neil could protest, Abby had squirted something on her index finger and was gently rubbing it into the wound. It made the area itch a little bit, but Neil refrained from scratching it and let the coolness sink into his skin.

“This should heal up in a week or two,” she said. “It’ll be a little tender; try not to irritate it too much.”

Neil was only half-listening, but he nodded anyway.

Abby capped the tube and went to put it back in her kit. “Shirt off,” she said.

Neil froze.

Abby stopped fiddling with the lid and looked up at Neil with concerned eyes. “Neil?”

He didn’t meet her gaze, instead choosing to watch his knee bounce up and down.

“Neil,” she said, her voice turning serious. “David told me you were running from people. Did they hurt you?”

Understatement of the fucking century. 

Neil nodded, head still bent down.

Abby sighed. “Don’t worry, I can bet you I’ve seen worse.”

Neil doubted that.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, I just need to look you over and make sure you’re okay.”

Neil realized this wasn’t a fight he was going to win, and he reluctantly pulled off his shirt and held it tight in his lap.

Abby thought she was ready. No one ever was. 

She couldn’t completely cover her gasp, but Neil didn’t react—he knew what it looked like. He heard her jaw clench, saw her hands dig tighter into her sides.

She swallowed hard, and Neil clenched his shirt in his lap as her curious eyes swept over the marred expanse of skin. 

A scarred patch stretching from his shoulder to his naval where he’d jumped out of a moving car and torn himself up on the road. A burn from an iron on his right shoulder from some time his father had gotten angry. The iron holes were still perfect and round and popped out of his skin like bubble wrap. A bullet hole, the edges jagged and puckered, from one of the run-ins Neil and his mother had with his father’s people. It wasn’t common for them to use guns—all of his father’s men were well-trained in and preferred knives—but they resorted to bullets when their enemies were too far away for a blade to be of much help.

Scars he didn’t even remember getting littered his chest and back like some sick abstract art piece. A good amount of them were courtesy of Riko himself, times when he had gotten angry or just felt like releasing some tension. Most of the damage he inflicted was done with knives as well, though there were some places where Riko’s nails had pierced so deep the scratches had still yet to fade.

There was a fresh one in the center of his back, four deep knife cuts that formed a sloppy R, from the day before Neil escaped. Neil had tried to resist Riko’s bruising grip on his wrists as Riko forced his legs apart, so afterwards, he had pinned Neil face down on the bed and carved the letter into his skin to remind him who he belonged to.

Neil didn’t even realize he had passed out from the pain until he woke up later that day, skin sweaty and coated in a thin layer of dried blood. He had forced himself to take a quick—albeit painful—shower, and then Neil ran and didn’t look back.

Abby laid a careful hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Neil,” she whispered.

Neil jerked out her grasp and stood up, pulling his shirt back over his head and ignoring the way the movement pulled at his wounds. He sent a pointed look towards Abby that said _Are we done?_ , and at her shaky nod he pushed past her and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and criticism are appreciated!!
> 
> I know I said I was going to try to post every week, but I'm hella lazy and kinda in a slump rn. Oops. I think I'll stick to every other week, but if I finish a chapter before that I'll post it asap. Sorry. Hope you like the fic so far!!


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